Oh, the Irony

This month is when the book is supposed to come out containing my nonfiction publishing debut: an essay in which I tell of the joy and tenuousness of my lifestyle as cyclist-Market-Jell-O artist. There's a paragraph in there where I say how fragile my structure really is; if I fall, or slip a disk....

So as a true nonfiction writer I guess I was bound to test that out; I swear I had no intention and I renounce any unintentional vows to that end. Anyway, on Friday I fell and broke my foot.

I cracked the calcaneus bone, which is the main heel bone. It's not a good thing to break. I don't know yet if it will require surgery and a plate and screws but I do know it will require 12 weeks of elevation and rest. And no, that doesn't mean I get to be high, it means I am supposed to keep my foot above my heart level. And my heart is pretty full.

I have had lots of help, thank goodness. Willy came yesterday to take me to the doctor and helped me build a kind of lounge out of my chairs, all tied together and draped with pillows. I'm propped up here surrounded by books and dvds and Colleen brought over some divine non-inflammatory cookies and a long-handled grabber and I just lie here and do what I can to keep myself grounded and positive. It's my right foot so I can't even attempt to drive and I am pretty darn dependent. Not my accustomed style.

I am so grateful that I know so many loving and generous people. I am so sorry for all the times I didn't respond adequately to their distresses, convincing myself they would probably rather be left alone. Now I know a bit more about how much people really do need each other.

I'm still figuring it all out, not wanting to let go of anything. Market starts April 7th...not gonna be there. The Jell-O Show is March 31...all up in the air. No readings of my essay will be happening for me any time soon, if the book comes out near schedule. All the little jobs I have cobbled together, all my small clients and a couple of big ones: on hold. I want to find a way to do it all still. Time will tell just how naive I can get.

I'm experiencing pain and painkillers. I can use my laptop, but will my writing abilities be compromised? Is there a sweet spot in the medication cycle where I will be lyrical and not stupid? They make me chatty, so I avoid Facebook so I don't spill out. I can still research the house stuff somewhat. I can't go to the graveyards as planned, not yet anyway. I guess I can work with what I have, which is a lot. At least I will have plenty of time and not a lot of distractions.

I might be able to make the most of this, but it's not optimal. I was already broke with expensive yet inadequate insurance. I'll be all withered and have to rebuild all of my muscles and I hope all this sitting doesn't make my back issues flare up. I hope I don't burn all my helpers out with my diffidence and inability to use proper social skills to ask gracefully and gratefully. Talk about aging in place...I got the in place thing right anyway. And I will age. This can be a disabling injury, said the urgent care doctor. Not for me, I said to myself. Not for me.

But I'll certainly have more grasp of the emotional content of the aging process, which at almost-62 I was rather blithely ignoring. My mother-in-law Hope spent a decade or more not walking at the end. I had pain and immobility before, with my back, but that surgery was possibly less complicated than this. I was more scared then, and less realistic. I took so much for granted.

We'll see how it all goes. Quite possibly six months from now I will have left it all behind me and be off on some new quest or other. I'm just in the beginning of this little trip through the wilds. I'll be okay; just different. Most injuries are permanent in some way or other, printed on our bodies and our psyches.

It was just a moment of inattention, looking up when I should have looked down. There are countless ways it could have been worse: I stepped off a roof, but onto another roof, and didn't fall to the ground. My guardian angels tried to help me, but I was dreaming, thinking that what was important was that one apple limb that was just out of the reach of my pole pruner. I wanted to be thorough and get all of the branches that were growing upward to the sun, trying to make them all grow downward so I could pick the apples. What arrogance. Obviously the important limb was the one I was moving, the one that was my foundation, the one I allowed to step out into the thinnest of air. I took my body and balance for granted, just for awhile.

You just can't do that. Being present is a much more intense thing than I thought. Now as I occupy the same chair for the foreseeable future, I will be exploring more finite space. I'll still be doing and learning. I just managed to limit my choices by some huge percentage and wipe pretty much everything off my calendar for a bit. I'll be here, and I'll get back. It just might involve a bit more effort than I thought.

My thanks to my mail carrier, Jeff, who happened by when I was figuring out how to get off the roof. It was so comforting (I have a crush on him, too, so it was embarrassing as hell. He sees a lot though. Told me yesterday he was chased by a dog in pajamas. Yes, the dog.) My eternal and overwhelming gratitude to my friend Pamela, who came over and took me to Urgent Care and looked at the films with the doctors and listened to what they said, and got me all fixed up and even had the presence of mind to order me some Chinese which I ate for six meals. It was fantastic each time. She washed my dishes and moved my clutter and listened to my irrational dribbling as I went through the initial stages of adjustment. Everyone responded and everyone helped.

All of my friends and neighbors are just wonderful people and I am very, very lucky. And the Market network is a wonderfully dependable network.

I had originally titled the essay "Jiggety Jig" for the part about going to Market (no fat pigs, but anyway I liked it). The publisher needed it changed and now I think it is Stay Calm, Nothing is Under Control. That pretty much says it all.